horror. The little bed stood there, white and innocent in the candlelight, the drawer still gaped, showing its pathetic contents; the furniture, pictures, texts, and all the rest remained in their places, harmless and undefiled as when Amy herself had set them there.
He looked carefully round before entering; then, stepping forward, he took the candle, closed the drawer, not without difficulty, glanced round once more, and went out, locking the door behind him.
“A pack of nonsense!” he said, as he tossed the key on to the table before his wife.
The theological discussion waxed late that night, and by ten o’clock Mrs. Nugent, under the influence of an excellent supper and a touch of stimulant, had begun to condemn her own terrors, or rather to cease to protest when her husband condemned them for her.
A number of solutions had been proposed for the startling little incident, to none of which did she give an unqualified denial.
- It was the stooping that had done it; there had been a rush of blood to the head that had emptied the heart and caused the sinking feeling.
- It was the watercress eaten in such abundance on the previous afternoon.
- It was the fact that she had passed an unoccupied morning, owing to the closing of the shop.
- It was one of those things, or all of them, or some other like one of them.
Even the little maid was reassured, when she came to take away the supper things, by the cheerful conversation of the couple, though she registered a private vow that for no consideration under heaven would she enter the bedroom on the right at the top of the stairs.